'A 




Class ^dj_^^ 
Book_i4 






COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



THE BOAT OF GAETA 

and Other Verses 



BY 

JOHN HENRY CLAUSEN 

ii 




BOSTON 

SHERMAN, FRENCH ^ COMPANY 

1915 






Copyright, 1915 
Shermak, Frekch &' Company 



if 



(MS> 



SEP 24 1915 
©CI,A410G25 

>0 ( . 



TO 

MY WIFE 

AND 

CHILDREN 



CONTENTS 

MISCELLANY 

PAGE 

Carefully Considered 3 

A Wintry Thought 4 

Calling for Joe 5 

The Skaters 7 

Jealous 8 

Eileen 9 

The Exchange 10 

The Way of it 11 

The Willow Switch 12 

The Inside View 13 

The Stock Ticker 14 

A (G)love Song 15 

Hamilton — Glover — Garrison . . . . 16 

Deep-water Boys 17 

The Boat of Gaeta 20 

Say it Kindly 22 

Feet and Eyes 23 

An Illusion 24 

Midnight, December Thirty-first ... 25 

Was it You.? 26 

Catherine 27 

Memorial Day 30 

All Souls' Day 31 

The First Sleigh 32 

The Salesman 33 

Old Year and New Year 34 

Martha 35 



PAGE 

Rotten Row 36 

Addie's Eel 37 

An Easy Way 39 

If Roses were Words 40 

Best References 41 

Sleigh Bells 42 

The Seven Rungs 43 

The Timid Communicant 45 

Begone^ Hard Times 47 

Sandy Borne 48 

Anticipation 50 

An Old Couple 51 

The " War of Service " 52 

The Tree Near the Band Stand ... 54 

The Mill Clerk's Song 55 

A Girl in Blue at Copley Square ... 57 

My Little Boy Built a Castle .... 58 

Flag Day at the Mission Church ... 59 

A Lover's Cry 61 



ATHLETICS 

When Otis Bowls 65 

An Office Bout 66 

Kraenzlein 67 

The Real Fuss 68 

The Athletic Heart 69 

Fareweel to Scotland 70 

Fish Marsh of Mass 71 

Piper 74 



ELKDOM 

vxax 

B. P. O. E 79 

To THE District Deputy 80 

The Proposed Visit 81 

To THE New Lodge 82 

Pictures for Portland 83 

The New Home 85 

A Great Lift 87 

For Memorial Sunday 89 

Flag Day 90 

Elk Song 91 



MISCELLANY 



CAREFULLY CONSIDERED 

When Laura Frances goes to church, we walk 
the avenue; 

A half-mile walk on Sunday is the best thing she 
could do ; 

With flying furs she swings along, while snow- 
flakes beat her face; 

And, oh, she's so devoted when inside the sacred 
place. 

When Laura Frances goes to dine, we take the 
new coupe; 

The driver sits up proudly in that fine old Eng- 
lish way ; 

And Laura greets her many friends with nodding 
head and smiles ; 

Oh, there's not a girl like Laura for around a 
thousand miles. 

For opera or symphony, we take a limousine ; 
The chauff*eur speeds us quickly there, and 

Laura looks a queen ; 
But when I view my cancelled checks and for 

some money search — 
I think that I'll encourage Laura's visits to the 

church. 



[3] 



A WINTRY THOUGHT 

Should Nellie learn to skate unguided, 
I would no longer be her teacher ; 

But watch her as away she glided, 

A sweet and most bewitching creature. 

That I would miss her I've decided ; 

Miss every fall, each trepidation. 
Should Nellie learn to skate unguided, 

I'd miss my dearest occupation. 



[4] 



CALLING FOR JOE 

Far down in the valley among the brown trees, 
And just as the twilight lies soft on the breeze, 
There rises in echoes a call from below : — 
I think it is mother — she's calling for " Joe ! " 

I rush to a hillock and start to reply, 

When o'er field and woodland there comes a 

loud cry. 
It must be Aunt Sophy ; she's calling for Joe, — 
Calling with warbles, — " Jo-ie, O, Jo-o-o ! " 

Before I can answer I hear a fierce yell ; 

It travels the meadows and bounds o'er the dell. 

It startles the cattle, it frightens the crow; 

It surely is Billy ; — he's calling for " Jo-o-o ! " 

I speed down the hillside and venture a leap 
Across the small brooklet, the pool clear and 

deep. 
I run through the orchard where red apples 

grow. 
And hear little Tommy call, " Do ! — where's 

oo, Do ! " 

And mother is saying : " Where has the boy 



gone 



? » 



Then I steal up behind her as darkness creeps 
on; 

[5] 



I throw my arms 'round her ; — she's frightened, 

I know ; 
But she's glad, for she kisses her little boy Joe. 



[6] 



THE SKATERS 

There they go ! 

Blades aflashing and cheeks aglow; 
Skimming along with a swinging glide 
Over the surface side by side; 
Under the new moon's fading light, 
Skating away in the winter's night. 

There they go ! 

Nearing the quiet brook below, 

Where the ice is thin and the water deep, 

Where over the bank the willows creep ; 

And I shudder and shrink as on they glide, 

Nearing the brooklet side by side. 

There they go ! 

From the treacherous, gloomy brook below 
A warning crack in the ice is heard ! 
But aAvay they speed like a flying bird, 
With a merry laugh and a swinging glide. 
Over the surface side by side. 



m 



JEALOUS 

" He said he loved me, sister Kate ; 

He said he loved me true; 
But men are heartless as the wind — 

I think, Kate, he loves you. 
He said I was his darling Rose ; 

He kissed me at the gate: 
But what do you suppose he said ! — 

'Why don't you smile like Kate?' 

" Now if he loves me, sister Kate, 

As much as he loves you. 
He would not see your welcome smile 

When bidding me adieu : 
And when he comes around tonight 

I'm going to make him wait. 
The very idea ! — to please him, I 

Should smile like sister Kate? " 



[8] 



EILEEN 

I SAW a pretty girl in red, 
With waving plume and tossing head ; 
A perfect picture of a queen — 
The prettiest girl I've ever seen. 

I saw a pretty girl in blue, 
Excelling everything in view; 
A handsome miss of seventeen — 
The prettiest girl I've ever seen. 

I saw a pretty girl in white, 
A vision walking in the night, 
With saucy hat of palest green — 
The prettiest girl I've ever seen. 

And yet she's very much the same; 
She'll change her dress, but not her name; 
A glorious coquette, Eileen — 
The prettiest girl I've ever seen. 



[9] 



THE EXCHANGE 

" So you would like my coffee cold, 

And I would quaff yours steaming hot. 

A fair exchange and no one sold ; 
The bargain's made upon the spot. 

" Fair Belle, I pass across to thee 
My luscious coffee, cup and cream ; 

My life, my heart, my liberty: 

And you — you give me only steam." 

" Not so, my Jack. To thee I give 

All that you wish, and more. Behold ! 

My heart is warm, and as I live. 
The one you offer me is cold." 



[10] 



THE WAY OF IT 

The fast train bears her out of sight, 
Three weary months from me away ; 

She told me she would often write, 
And I said I'd write every day. 

A Week Later 

She writes me thus, while on her tour: 
" I hear the streamlet's laughing purl." 

Some other beau she's got, I'm sure ; 
But then, — I've got another girl. 



[11] 



THE WILLOW SWITCH 

Fathee once did take my hand, 

One Sunday after church, 
And led me to the wild wood-land 

For fairy things in search. 
And many things so strange to me 

Within the woods we found, — 
Among the leaves, upon the trees. 

And on the mossy ground. 

I cut a switch from off a tree 

Above a httle brook, — 
A willow switch that mournfully 

With summer zephyrs shook : 
And I gave father dear (alack) 

That switch from off the tree, 
But later on he gave it back, 

And, oh, so differently. 



[12] 



THE INSIDE VIEW 

When I walk across the Common 

In the noontime of the day, 
On the board walk or the pavement, 

Or on the frozen clay. 
And I meet with signs of winter 

In the flitting flakes of snow. 
Then I think of blasts and blizzards 

That we had a year ago. 

But I love the roaring winter 

With its heaping drifts of snow ; 
With its jingling sleigh bells tinkling 

On the boulevard below ; 
And I love the merry parties 

That in the cold night ride : — 
Yes, I love the roaring winter. 

To look at — from inside. 



[13] 



THE STOCK TICKER 

December days ! December days ! 
Extremely dull the ticker stays ; 
And all day long the clerks and cliques 
Sleep very sound between the ticks. 



[14] 



A (G)LOVE SONG 

She 

An old glove I have lost. 

Where to look I do not know ; 
Perhaps upon the ocean tossed, 

Perhaps somewhere I cannot go. 

He 

An old glove I have found, — 
Graceful, beautiful and sweet. 

With finger tips soft and round, 
A dear hand fair to greet. 

She 

An old love I have lost. 

Where to look I do not know ; 
Perhaps upon the ocean tossed, 

Perhaps somewhere I cannot go. 

He 

An old love I have found, — 
Graceful, beautiful and sweet ; 

With finger tips soft and round, 
A dear hand fair to greet. 



[15] 



HAMILTON — GLOVER — GARRISON 

The Park Commissioners of the Citjr of Boston have 
decided to remove the statues of Hamilton, Glover and 
Garrison, that are on Commonwealth Avenue, to a place 
in the Public Garden. 

TO THE STATUES 

I HAVE spoken to you in the morning; 
I have spoken to you at night ; 
I have spoken to you in the noon's bright day 
When the summer sun shone bright. 
I have shaken your hands in spirit; 
I have Hstened to your command ; 
And I've breathed a prayer 
to keep you there, — 
To keep you where you stand. 

There are pleasanter paths to wander; 
There are greener lawns that grow ; 
There are loftier trees and flowers to please 
By other walks, I know. 
But I'll miss your helpful faces 
And the courage that made you grand ; 
So, I'll pray that a few 
may arise, like you, — 
To keep you where you stand. 



[16] 



DEEP-WATER BOYS 

'Round the corner a crowd of boys 
Come walking, 
Come talking. 

They pass the saw-mill's buzzing noise, 
They pass the peddler with a shout. 
They rush across the busy street, 
They pass the church-door, more devout. 
Unmindful of the summer heat, 

They run and stop and start and run. 
And then right in the noon-day sun. 
Dash fast across the railroad track 
And halt upon the pier in back. 
Where the river shines warm and still, 
Where the raft moves lazily at will. 

Eleven boys ; I counted them all. 

Eleven boys 

Unmatched for noise ; 

Eleven boys, both short and tall; 

With a one and a two and a three and a 
scream. 
All dive at once from off the pier 
And splash and ripple the quiet stream ; 
While over me suddenly comes a fear 

That someone is missing from their ranks. 
I'm startled with their many pranks 
And wondering when they'll cease their 
fun 

[17] 



And gather their clothing, one by one, 
For round the raft and playing tricks 
The most that I can count is six. 

But climbing up the old green pile 
Near where I stand, 
With coat in hand. 

Comes another lad with a dripping smile : 
Ah! that is seven, thank God for that. 

But where has the red haired laddie gone? 
And where is the boy so short and fat.? 

And the freckled one the boys call John? 
I count again ; one, three, four, five : 
At least there's nine that are alive. 
But what has become of the other two? 
I stand on a log for a better view. 
And count them over and over again. 
Until at last I find there's ten. 

I saunter back to the open gate 
To wait about 
Till they file out, 

To count more carefully and straight. 
First comes red head in the lead. 

Second is Jim and third is fat ; 
And freckled face is there indeed : — 
Ay, truly I'm right glad of that. 
Four and five and six and seven 
And sure enough, there are eleven. 
[18] 



... I wonder if God's angels double 
When boys go swimming into trouble, 
And how many angels' wings get wet 
While guarding a mother's darling pet. 



[19] 



THE BOAT OF GAETA 

From the hills of Assisi to the sea of Gaeta, 
Came beloved St. Francis to the land of Caserta, 
To preach to the people Christ's gospel again, — 
To the rich and the poor ; to children and men. 

One evening St. Francis walked down to the 

quay, 
His corded gown filled by the breeze from the 

bay; 
His heart beating time to his own quiet prayer; 
His soul all aflame for the multitude there. 

So great was the crowd that he asked for a boat 
Of a bright little lad in a pretty white coat; 
And stepping aboard without oar nor with sail, 
It slipped o'er the water close down to the rail. 

It leaped like a phantom o'er Gaeta Bay, 
Amazing the people far out on the quay ; 
And great was the fear in the little boy's eyes 
As he watched his boat sailing out into the skies. 

But quickly and gently the boat swung about, 
A wonder of wonders to those who would doubt ; 
And sailing in close to the shore near the quay, 
The little boat stopped for St. Francis to pray. 

And when he had spoken and bade all good-bye, 

And the sun in its sinking glared red in the sky, 

[20] 



The little boat darted again on a sail 

With its side to the water close down to the rail. 

And the bright little lad in the pretty white coat 
Once more was in charge of his little white boat, 
And then blessed Francis bent close to his ear 
And whispered these few words of kindness and 
cheer : 

" Wherever about in the sea you may sail, 
In light or in darkness, in calm or in gale ; 
Wherever you are in your little white boat, 
Remember, the Saviour will keep you afloat." 

The little boy grasped at the saint's corded 

gown. 
As the last rays of sunlight illumined the town: 
" O, dear, blessed Francis, once more kindly 

say, — 
What of me and my boat in deep Gaeta Bay ? " 

" Wherever about," said St. Francis, " you sail. 
In light or in darkness, in calm or in gale ; 
Wherever you are in your little white boat. 
Remember, — the Saviour will keep you afloat." 

Now, oft when the sea rises high in the day 
And the ships of the fishermen ride in the bay. 
The women who live in the land of Caserta 
Watch out for the boat in the Sea of Gaeta. 
[21] 



SAY IT KINDLY 

Say it kindly: oh! be kind. 
Say not the harmful words that brand 
The heart, the soul, the outstretched hand. 
Speak ! Speak with eloquence your mind, 
But leave no burning sting behind. 
Be kind. 

Say it kindly : oh ! be kind. 
Does not the ocean foam and boil 
And roll and ever, ever toil 
And crash upon the spreading shore 
In monster wave and mighty roar. 
Yet leave no scar behind.'' 
Be kind, be kind. 

Say it kindly : oh ! be kind. 
Does not the brook in spring arise 
And spread into gigantic size 
And rush and crowd and overflow. 
And then recede and leave a low. 
Sweet meadow green behind.'' 
Be kind, be kind. 



[22] 



FEET AND EYES 

I SAW the imprint of a heel 
Impressed upon the snow ; 

And oh, 'twas such a pretty heel, 
I longed to see the toe. 

While thus I mused, the lady passed 
Who owned those pretty feet; 

And I aver the toe outclassed. 
When both were seen complete. 

Again she passed in strolling pace, 
And I beheld her eyes : — 

Well, — feet would win an easy race 
If beauty were the prize. 



[23] 



AN ILLUSION 

A PHANTOM ne'er could speak so low, 
Nor shadows make respond 

To sounds that on the rocks below 
Rise upward from the pond. 

Two figures in the moonlight dim 

I see beneath the trees ; 
And she is bending over him, 

While he is on his knees. 

The night is cold and breezes blow, 
Yet on his knees he waits : 

You say he's pleading love? Oh, no! 
He's putting on her skates. 



[U] 



MIDNIGHT, DECEMBER THIRTY-FIRST 

Passing along the quiet street, 

Beneath a glare of lurid light, 
I paused to hear an auctioneer 

Receive his last bid of the night. 

Under the hammer, " Going, going," 
A quaint old clock, made long ago, 

Behind the rail was up for sale, 

With pendulum swinging to and fro. 

'Twas nearly twelve by the quaint old clock. 
When someone whispered, " Buy it, John ! " 

Thus the clock, the year, and the auctioneer 
Together, all had " gone." 



[25] 



WAS IT YOU? 

Tell me, Nellie, was it you ? 
Winter cheeks and bright eyes too. 
New suit made of college blue : 
Tell me, Nellie ; was it you ? 

My head turned as someone passed ; 
Eyes blurred, too, and heart beat fast ; 
Thoughts came rushing, rushing through : 
Tell me, Nellie ; was it you ? 

Old songs softly sung are best ; 
Fondled heart-beats, warmest rest : 
Who aroused these tenants? Who? 
Tell me, Nellie ; was it you ? 



[26] 



CATHERINE 

A UTTLE girl named Catherine, with flying hair 

of gold, 
Brought to the school the sweetest milk that e'er 

a can could hold; 
And each day for her labor, she received an 

apple red ; 
But, being late one morning, 'tis said the apple 

said: 

" Where is Catherine this morning? Where is 
the little child? 

The sun is shining brightly and the birds are 
singing wild ; 

The great clock's struck the hour and the chil- 
dren are at school," 

Thus spoke the rosy apple to the milk can on 
the stool. 

" I, too, have just been thinking," lisped the 
milk can in reply, 

" That it wouldn't be just like her to forget us 
and go by. 

She has been so very punctual that surely we 
should pause; 

And before we start to scold her, we should as- 
certain the cause." 



[27] 



" I suppose," remarked the apple, " that you, 

being pure and sweet. 
You imagine that an apple might be somewhat 

indiscreet. 
I know that I look very red, but to the core I'm 

sound ; 
And I feel sure that Catherine will send some 

one around." 

" Perhaps she will," said Madam Milk, " but I 

will never scold ; 
She carries me so carefully; with such a gentle 

hold: — 
But you're a lucky apple to be glist'ning in the 

dew ; 
If Catherine dear had called today, — what 

would be left of you.'' " 

" Ha ! Ha ! " laughed Rosy Apple. " How con- 
solingly you speak; 

You must be used directly, but I may last a 
week. 

If Catherine dear should take me home and hide 
nie in her room, 

I might not be discovered for perhaps another 
moon." 

" It is not my wish to quarrel," said the milk 

can, shining bright ; 
" I may live until tomorrow and I may not last 

this night; 

[28] 



But I'd rather be a quart of milk than suffer 

such a pain 
As you would surely suffer after you were found 

again." 

" She is coming," sighed the Apple. " I won- 
der who's to blame ; 

The tears are rushing from her eyes, her cheeks 
are all aflame. 

She has a note for teacher so I think I'm safe 
today, 

For she's in such a hurry, she won't eat me on 
the way." 

Now the parts that end this story are divided 

into three: 
The apple at the recess time was cut in two, you 

see; 
The milk within the shining can was given out 

at noon ; 
And whatever else there is to say, is quickly said 

and soon. 

Dear Catherine was forgiven and she now is 

never late ; 
She always calls for Madam Milk at quarter 

after eight; 
She always finds her apple right there upon the 

stool ; 
And she says she never, never will again be late 

for school. 

[29] 



MEMORIAL DAY 

Heroes of the distant age, 
Heroes on life's living page, 
Heroes young and heroes old. 
Heroes grand and heroes bold. 
All are cherished by the young. 
All extolled in every tongue ; — 
But heroes' greatest deeds were done 
By North and South in 'sixty-one. 



[30] 



ALL SOULS' DAY 

See the dead leaves race! 

Flying and whirling. 
See the dead leaves race ! 

Tumbling and twirling. 
A thousand start, a thousand fall : — 
Dead leaves racing over the mall. 

See the passed souls race ! 

Silently, whither? 
See the passed souls race ! 

Quietly, whither? 
Above us, about us, they rise and fall ; 
Passed souls racing over the mall. 



[SI] 



THE FIRST SLEIGH 

I HEAK the tink of the first sleigh bells, 

And rush to the door to see, 
To gaze at the plumes and see the swells 

And list to their merry glee ; 
To see the dash of the prancing pair, 

And peep at the first bright sleigh ; 
But oh, such a joke, I do declare, — 

'Tis only a farmer's dray. 



[32] 



THE SALESMAN 

In the contest for the " Assistant General Manager's " 
prize. 

At it again while the days are long, 
With jest and story and smile and song; 
Plucking the fruit with leaf and stem 
For the Company's A. G. M. 

At it again as the days go by, 
Under the clouds or the sunny sky ; 
Urging them on and selling them 
For the Company's A. G. M. 

At it again when the days are few, 
With nerve unshaken and heart that's true ; 
For he must work who wins the gem 
From the Company's A. G. M. 



[33] 



OLD YEAR AND NEW YEAR 

A BENT form in the twilight faded. 

Slipped away in the new moon's gleam ; 

A long, gaunt figure worn and jaded, 
Borne away on the new moon's beam. 

'Mid clangor of bells and gladsome singing 
The old Old Year fades into space ; 

And gay New Year, with the bells still ringing, 
Slips quietly in to take his place. 



[84] 



MARTHA 

Sweet are the violets she wears upon her breast, 
Sweet is the music of her voice, 

But more sweet to me 

Is her fair face to see. 
And that dear smile that bids me rejoice. 

Bright are the diamonds that glisten on her 

head. 
Bright are the gems upon her hand. 

But more bright to me 

Is her fair face to see. 
And her smile that appears at command. 

Dear are the glances that steal from 'neath her 

eyes. 
Dear is each welcome tear that slips, 

But more dear to me 

Is her glad self so free. 
And her smile when she kisses my lips. 



[35] 



ROTTEN ROW 

Where wealthy ride in proud exclusion, 

Where horseguards gallop in plume and spur, 
Where lackeys sit in braid profusion. 

Where vehicles spin with merry whir. 
Where gray old beards and young moustaches 

Mingle together in grand review. 
Where old war charger and pony dashes. 

Where Briton vies with wealthy Jew, 
Where beauty rides in silk attired, 

Where redcoats brighten the moving show, 
Where the poor gaze on the much admired. 

As they pass in a whirl down Rotten Row. 



[36] 



ADDIE'S EEL 

Addie and a few young friends 

From home one night did softly steal 

To fish in Swain's Pond's slimy waters, 
To fish for the wriggling eel. 

A hook and worm, with line attached, 

Without a rod or reel ; 
With these three simple little things 

Addie caught an eel. 

She baited her hook and cast her line 
With a true fisherman's zeal ; 

And fished down near the bottom 
For the unsuspecting eel. 

She handled the line as if she knew 

The way in which to deal 
With all the fishes in the sea, 

Especially the eel. 

Ah ! She has a bite ! 

There comes a tug that makes her reel ; 
And out of Swain's Pond's slimy waters 

Comes a struggling, wriggling eel. 

Not another fish was caught that night ; 

How happy Add must feel ; 
Out of five who were a-fishing, 

She caught the only eel. 
[37] 



Be careful how you read this ; 

Do not criticize with zeal ; 
You may criticize the poem, 

But don't criticize the eel. 



[38] 



AN EASY WAY 

In an interview one day, 
Thomas Atkins said, " I say ! 

To defeat the fightin' Boers in a hurry 
I, instead of sendin' earls. 
Would send a thousand girls ; 

And their arms would put the Boers in a flurry. 
Pretty eyes would snap, and dart 
Killing glances at the heart 

Of every bloomin' Boer 'round Pretoria. 
Ladysmith would lose its name ; 
They would call it Mary Jane," 

Said T. Atkins of the guards of Queen Victoria. 



[39] 



IF ROSES WERE WORDS 

If roses gave forth words instead of fragrance, 

Then I would send fine messages to thee. 
Each morning from the garden plots I'd gather 

Growing buds that stretched their forms to- 
ward me; 
And some that in the sunlight grew in splendor 

Would speak to you as only flowers could. 
If roses gave forth words instead of fragrance, 

How pure would be my message, and how 
good. 

How sweet would be their words to you at even- 
ing; 

And soon a lover's language you would learn 
From opening rosebuds, glorious in color. 

And each unfolding secrets in its turn 
To you at night, at day-break, too, and in thy 
chamber — 

Where'er you went, without, within, away. 
If roses gave forth words instead of fragrance, 

Then messages of love I'd send each day. 



[40] 



BEST REFERENCES 

" There's a new man in the garden, Pat, 

He's tying up the cow ; 
His brogue is fine as any that 

I've heard since I left Louth." 
" Ah, yes," said Pat, " I think he'll stay 

And help plow up the loam ; 
A lad who'll ask for little pay, 

He knew my uncle's folks at home." 

" That new man's not a steady chap ; 

He smells of whiskey strong. 
For work he does not care a snap, — 

I wonder what is wrong? " 
" Well, well," said Pat, " that's very bad, 

Like hard times in Tyrone ; 
I'm sure I'm sorry for the lad, — 

He knew my uncle's folks at home." 

" O Pat ! Come quick ; the man's not right ; 

He steals the eggs just laid. 
I wish you'd send him off to-night : 

Indeed, Pat, I'm afraid." 
" That's bad," said Pat, " that's very bad. 

He came from old Athlone : 
Another chance we'll give him. Cad; 

He knew my uncle's folks at home." 



[41] 



SLEIGH BELLS 



Dull, dull the sleigh bells jingle, 

Softly tinkle through the night; 
Far away the faint stars mingle 

With the silv'ry northern light, 
Down, down the hill-slope sliding, 

My pacer steps out free; 
But I care not where I'm riding. 

For Nellie's not with me. 

Sad thoughts within me mingle; 

Dwell there longer than I care. 
There's no music in the jingle 

Of the sleigh bells anywhere; 
There's no sport in all the sliding 

O'er the glossy, gleaming snow ; 
For my heart's not in the riding 

And I care not where I go. 

But I'll drown my gloomy feeling 

With a ride to Nellie's door; 
Catch a glimpse of her eyes stealing 

Slyly upward as of yore ; 
And away we'll go a-gliding, 

And the bells will lively sound. 
And there'll be some pleasure riding 

When my Nellie is around. 



[42] 



THE SEVEN RUNGS 

Van Halfenstein's ladder was made of oak, 
With seven painted, rounded rungs ; 

And each a lettered sermon spoke 
As well as many tongues. 

A little girl with printed frock 

And scarlet kerchief 'round her head 

Placed the ladder against a rock, 
And on its rungs she read : 

" First is wealth. 
Second, a name. 
Third is power. 
Fourth is fame. 
Fifth is ease. 
Sixth is grace. 
Seventh is God's 
Abiding place" 

" Van Halfenstein ! it's upside down ! 

Suppose your ladder broke in two 
When you were half way up the rounds, — 

What would become of you? " 

Van Halfenstein, with waddling stride. 
Walked quickly to his cottage door; 

The little maid he first espied. 
Then eyed his ladder more. 
[43] 



His mind was good, his eyes were keen ; 

'Twas plain the maid a warning brought, 
For when the ladder next was seen. 

The rungs this wisdom taught: 

" First is God. 
Second is grace. 
Third, a name. 
Fourth, a race. 
Fifth is fame. 
Sixth is power. 
Seventh is wealth 
For but an hour." 



[44] 



THE TIMID COMMUNICANT 

The altar boy uplifts the cloth that hangs upon 

the rail; 
But like a sailor on a ship a-lowering a sail, 
He lets it fall in waving folds, for 'tis of no 

avail. 

For no one heeds the call to Christ; 

Not one arises to respond; 
None so humble, none so wise. 

To greet our Saviour from Beyond. 

The church bell sounds the hour of noon, and 

Mass is nearly spent, 
When from a distant pew outsteps a girlish 

penitent ; 
And down the aisle with timid steps she walks 

with figure bent. 

The altar boy advances fast up to the altar's 

height, 
And touches outstretched arm of priest who 

reads by candle light ; 
But now, disturbed, he turns and sees a kneeling 

form in white. 



[4.5] 



And those within the crowded pews, assisting at 

the feast, 
Are seemingly in silent prayer for penitent and 

priest. 
A stillness gathers o'er the church; the choir's 

voice has ceased. 

Again the boy uplifts the cloth that hangs upon 

the rail. 
The penitent receives our Lord, — 

May Christ attend this soul of mine 
If, hy the brightness of His throne, 

I halt and falter near His shrine. 
Too fearful to advance alone. 



[46] 



BEGONE, HARD TIMES 

Begone, Hard Times, begone! 

Fly to the South away ; 
Fly to an island lone, 

Or the shore of some far bay ; 
Fly to the icy zone 

In the Northland, there to play ! 
Begone, Hard Times, begone! 

And let the Good Times stay. 

Begone, Hard Times, begone I 

And hide your restless head; 
Chant you your panic song 

Where sleep the quiet dead ; 
Flutter your wings and fly ! 

Swoop like the eagle gray 
Into the great blue sky. 

And let the Good Times stay. 



[47] 



SANDY BORNE 

That must be old Sandy Borne, 
Up and out this wintry morn, 
Making all those noisy clicks 
With his shovel on the bricks. 

I can see him from my bed, 

Warm with quilt and snowy spread — 

Dim in whiteness to the snow 

That old Sandy hurls below. 

There he stands beneath the trees. 
Deep in snowdrifts to his knees. 
What a good old Sandy Borne ! 
Shoveling snow this wintry morn. 

Cold winds blowing down the street 
Whisk the snow 'round Sandy's feet ; 
He stops a moment from his work 
To give his shoulder bones a jerk. 

He slaps his arms across his breast 
And breathes in deep to spread his chest ; 
Then hurls the snow into the road, 
Cake on cake and load on load. 

I turn my head and dream I hear 
The happy bells of glad New Year ; 
And wake again to hear the clink 
Of the shovel's noisy chink. 
[48] 



Threescore and three is Sandy Borne; 
I came of age last Monday morn : 
But Sandy twenty-one must be ; 
And I the one that's sixty-three. 



[4.9] 



ANTICIPATION 

In the dreary days of autumn, 

When the evenings close up fast, 
Our thoughts are of the darkness 

And the coming of the blast ; 
And we sigh for dear old summer, 

When we gather 'round the light. 
For the days are growing shorter, 

And the evening closes tight. 

But when 'tis February 

And the evenings are so still, 
Our thoughts are of the springtime, 

And the flowers on the hill ; 
And we think about the summer. 

And we dream about the sun, 
When the days are growing longer 

And old winter's nearly done. 

But the days aren't any longer 

Than they were in autumn's time ; 
Yet our souls are filled with music 

And our lips are steeped in rhyme : 
'Tis the dreaming of the future; 

'Tis the rising of the sun, 
When the days are growing longer 

And old winter's nearly done. 



[50] 



AN OLD COUPLE 

They were married long ago, — 
Ever, ever so long ago, — 

Married for love, the neighbors say , 
And yet they separate each day. 

Each morn they meet with heart shake 
While eating juicy breakfast steak. 

They were married long ago : 
Miss Pepper to Mr. Salt, you know. 



[51] 



THE "WAR OF SERVICE" 

Before the war, securities were higher than is 

now the case, 
And all good stocks and mortgages were very 

hard to buy ; 
So when the fleet got under way and down the 

coast began to race, 
The value of investments fell and men began to 

sigh. 

But then to compensate the loss, the screaming 
eagle loose was let ; 

The Stars and Stripes were floated from the 
head of ev'ry mast ; 

The famous Doctrine of Monroe was spiked on 
every bayonet; 

And all the country listened to the cannon's aw- 
ful blast. 

But now the matter's over with and brazen guns 

aside are laid; 
The bugle call and drum tattoo no longer now 

are heard ; 
The nation breathes the air of peace and stocks 

are going up the grade ; 
The glorious flag of freedom is a-sleeping with 

the bird. 



[62] 



With Fletcher down at Vera Cruz and Mayo 

back in Tampico, 
And Funston's sun-burnt regiments parading 

in the sun, 
The work we set about to do of turning over 

Mexico 
May wait a generation now before it is begun. 

And thus it is our country moves with Yankee- 
like rapidity ; 

When once the novelty is gone, we do not care 
a straw ; 

But look around for something out of " common- 
place placidity," 

And long for some excitement as we did before 
the war. 



[53] 



THE TREE NEAR THE BAND STAND 

They dragged it over grass and stones 

And planted it right near the band ; 
They loosed the ropes from 'round its trunk, 

And there they left the tree to stand. 
They gave it water every day, 

And everything that they could give; 
And if its life has not all gone. 

Perhaps the little tree will live; 
Perhaps the little tree will live. 

A month has gone, and yellow leaves 

Are tossing from a branch up high: 
And oh, and oh, my heart, it grieves. 

For fear the little tree will die: 
And yet it might be autumn's touch 

That nipped it as he swept that way. 
That nipped it quickly and passed on : 

I hope the little tree will stay ; 
I hope the little tree will stay. 

I hope the little tree will live ; 

I hope the buds will come in spring; 
And eager I will be to watch 

If robbins build their nests and sing. 
I hope to see the green leaves sprout. 

And hear the music of the band 
From underneath its tiny limbs: 

I hope the little tree will stand; 
I hope the little tree will stand. 
[54] 



THE MILL CLERK'S SONG 

The days are cold 

And the wind is bold, 
And it whistles around the mill: 

It whistles low, 

It whistles woe. 
For the factory wheels are still. 

The hills are white 

And the plain is bright. 
And the brook is frozen through: 

And the water-fall 

Is an icy wall, 
And the great high rock is blue. 

But when the horn 

Again at morn 
Shrieks loud in the April air. 

The smoke will curl 

And upward twirl 
From the towering chimney there. 

The toilers then 

Will come again. 
And the mill will roar with sound ; 

And girls will stop 

At the open shop 
To watch the wheels go 'round. 

[55] 



And from the Fells 
Where Mollie dwells, 

Where the hills rise high and free, 
Where violets grow 
Near the hidden snow, 

Mj Mollie will come to me. 

My Mollie will come, 

And softly hum 
A tune that is sweet, serene ; 

And she'll sing a song 

As she comes along 
Across the meadow green. 

For she is fair. 
And dark's her hair, 

And her coaxing eyes are blue ; 
And her lips are bright, 
And her hand is white, 

And her heart is pure and true. 

And Mollie'll come back 
When the hills are black. 

When the brook runs fast and free; 
When the wind is light, 
When the sun is bright. 

My Mollie will come to me. 



[56] 



A GIRL IN BLUE AT COPLEY SQUARE 

I WHISTLED as I climbed the stairs ; 

I rang the bell within the hall ; 

And though the door was open wide 
And I could see the room inside, 

There was no answer to my call. 

But there, within, a lady sat, 
A step or two beyond the screen. 
Reclining on an easy chair, 
With grand, aristocratic air: — 
I wondered I had not been seen. 

She did not lift her hidden eyes. 
Nor nod her haughty, girlish head; 

There was no stir of skirt of blue ; 

There was no toss of hat so new : 
How could a maid be so ill-bred? 

I gently moved the folding screen 
That stood a footstep from the door: 
And then the mystery was cleared, — 
My girl in blue was canvas reared. 
Upon an easel, two by four. 



[57] 



MY LITTLE BOY BUILT A CASTLE 



My little boy built a castle 

With wooden blocks and cards ; 
He placed a soldier doll inside, 

And formed some paper guards: 
Then he ran to bed with laughter, 

And shouted loud at me : 
" Now, Pa, don't spoil my castle ; 

The prisoner might go free ! " 

I wouldn't disturb his castle; 

I wouldn't a card destroy ; 
Of all the castles that he builds, 

There's none will give more joy. 
And I will watch him tomorrow. 

And listen for his shout. 
When 'mid the rattling of his drum, 

He calls the rebel out. 



[58] 



FLAG DAY AT THE MISSION CHURCH 

If I with sword 
Should cut the cord 
Of that great flag up there suspended, 

A wretched traitor I would be, 
And with my country I'd have ended. 

Or if with sword 
Or pen or word 
I struck that cross on tow'ring steeple, 

A traitor to my King I'd be: 
A traitor to my God and people. 

But if I fought 
Midst flame and shot, 

And lost my life, my flag embracing, 
A valiant soldier I would be. 

Who would not brook his flag's defacing. 

And if my heart 

Was torn apart 
While my Lord's cross I was defending, 

A servant to my King I'd be, 
And die, — my Master's creed befriending. 

And that is why 
The flag flies high : 
Cross to cross, steeple to steeple. 

The cross is truth, the flag is just, 
And God is truly with his people. 
[59] 



And to my King 

My flag I'll bring: 
From gilded cross and towering steeple: 
The cross is truth, the flag is just, 
And God is truly with his people. 



[60] 



A LOVER'S CRY 

Carry my heart away with you, 
A loving heart, a heart that's true, 

A heart that's big enough for two : — 
Carry my heart away with you. 



[61] 



ATHLETICS 



WHEN OTIS BOWLS 

When Otis takes the sphere 

I am seized with torpid fear, — 
A pressure on the heart, an awful scare. 

I can't fathom it at all. 

But — when Otis takes the ball, 
I am frightened lest he'll only roll a spare. 

Yet the spare seems bound to come, 
And it strikes me almost dumb. 

Otis scowls and puffs his pipe smoke in the air ; 
There are pins all scattered 'round, 
But there's two pins up and sound, — 

Oh, a dreadful thing it is to get a spare. 

There's no good except in strikes ; 

Otis gets them when he likes. 
With a skip, a slide, a lob, a pose, a stare. 

And I smile and watch the smash 

As the ten pins fall and crash. 
And I know there's not a chance to get a spare. 



[65] 



AN OFFICE BOUT 

Work over; 
Business done ; 
Boxing contests 
Now begun. 
Tom and Charlie 
Have a go ; 
Tommy clinches, 
Hangs on so: 
Charlie sallies, 
Tommy rallies ; 
Charlie parries, 
Down they go. 

Jimmy Murray, 
Johnny C, 
Introduced 
By the referee. 
Johnny prances, 
Jimmy falls ; 
Johnny dances, 
Jimmy lolls ; 
Johnny dashes, 
Jimmy slashes ; 
Glass crashes, 
Curtain falls. 



[66] 



KRAENZLEIN 

To France the conquering athlete goes, — 
Our Kraenzlein from the far Northwest ; 

Well trained and fit, with sun-tanned skin. 
Of marvelous, matchless limbs, possessed. 

Columbia crowns him with a star 

Plucked from the bright blue of her gown ; 
And America's athletes sail afar 

To France with Kraenzlein, to renown. 



[67] 



THE REAL FUSS 



The hero of the hour is the half back, sure 

enough ; 
He is made of seasoned timber, and we love him 

though he's tough. 
The pinnacle on which he stands holds steady 

'midst the whirl. 
But, oh, the fuss the fellows make about the half 

back's girl. 

The half back's girl is willowy ; her eyes are 

melting blue ; 
Her hat is tilted upward and her face is sweet to 

view. 
And when the cheers are greatest and the colors 

all unfurl. 
The eyes of all the fellows are upon the half 

back's girl. 



[68] 



THE ATHLETIC HEART 

A TENDER heart has cousin Mabel ; 

A loving heart has sister Grace ; 
But Thomas has a heart that's able 

To conquer at the hurdle race. 

Other hearts there are abounding, 

And every one can surely beat; 
But ne'er a heart received such pounding 

As Tom's did in his quarter heat. 

The pole vault was at twelve feet, seven. 

" My heart was in my mouth," cried Grace ; 
But though Tom seemed to fall from heaven, 

His heart still occupied its place. 



[69] 



FAREWEEL TO SCOTLAND 

An' sae fareweel to pipers' play ; 

Fareweel to plaids, to kilts an' a' ; 
Fareweel to Dee, the Clyde an' Tay, — 

Frae Scotland's braes I gang awa'. 
An' may the laddies always dance 

Their flings an' hornpipes on the green ; 
An' athletes jump an' runners prance, 

An' giants toss the caber, e'en. 
An' sae fareweel to one an' a'. 

For tho' I drink the victor's bumper, 
Contented still I'd be for a' 

To be just Boston's bonnie jumper. 



[70] 



FISH MARSH OF MASS 

Down through the street from Windsor town, 
Prince Edward rode a filly brown. 

White plume in cap, and doublet blue. 
And hose of brilliant purple hue. 

His velvet cape flapped in the breeze. 
While robins sang among the trees. 

With dangling sword and spirits gay, 
He spurred his mare along the way. 

When far from town, he ceased his ride, 
And stopped near by the river's side. 

And there, dismounting from his mare. 
He skimmed with stones the river fair. 



Just where the river turned and bent. 
Fish Marsh of Mass in swimming went ; 

And up the stream he swam with skill. 
Near where the prince was playing still. 

At this rare sight. Marsh turned about. 
And for the prince stroked bravely out. 

[71] 



" You swim right well," Prince Edward said. 
Marsh paused: "I'd rather jump instead." 

" Then jump we will," the prince replied ; 
Said Marsh of Mass, " How much a side? " 

" I'll match my sword against your head," 
Was what the Prince of England said. 

" A go," cried Marsh. " What is the game? 
And by-the-by, — what is your name.? " 

" Three leaps," he answered ; " call me, — Ned ; 
Before we're through I'll have your head." 

" Oh, ho ! " roared Marsh, " that sword's a 

peach ; 
Now place it out beyond my reach." 

Then Edward'leaped thrice o'er the ground 
And placed his sword at furthest bound. 

" How many trials ? " asked Fish Marsh. 
" One," yelled Edward, loud and harsh. 

Marsh leaped far o'er the soggy ground 
And as a kitten light did bound 

Beyond the sword and scabbard there. 
Beyond the mark, with feet to spare. 
[72] 



" Ah, ha ! " cried Marsh ; " my head is mine ! " 
"The sword," sighed Edward, " it is thine." 

" Good day, friend Ned. You keep the sword ; 
'Twas much too easy, 'pon my word." 

And with a dive he swam away. 

With, " Good-bye, Ned ; good day, good day." 



And the ripples curved and crept ashore, 
And all was silent as before; 

And gloomily back to Windsor town 
Prince Edward rode his filly brown. 



[73] 



PIPER 

'Round in a circle gather, 
And huddle close and snug; 
But turn the wick of the lamp down low, 
And throw on a log before you go 
In a circle 'round the rug. 

In the little town of Natick 
Was Piper born, and taught 

To run, to leap, to race, and start ; 

To learn each movement of the art 
Of running as one ought. 

And no one could excel him ; 

His equal none had found: 
So east and west and south and north 
A challenge from Piper was sent forth, — 

A challenge straight and sound. 

The note was quickly answered ; 

So there would be a race. 
And Piper trained on the Natick track, 
In starts and dashes up and back. 

In lightning sprints of pace. 

And on the day of racing 
Ten thousand went to sec, — 
The men from north and west and east, — 
But Piper feared not one the least, 
So confident was he. 
[74] 



And when the cry was given, 
Four men of wondrous speed, 
By a dick and a flash and a fume of smoke, 
Right over the line then swiftly broke, 
With Piper in the lead. 

How he dashed the cinders ! 

How he set the pace ! 
How fiercely all his rivals tried. 
How swifter still was Piper's stride ; — 

And Piper won the race. 

And over the world the wires 

Told of the race he won. 
For never before had a mortal sped 
With the flying speed with which he led. 

Until the race was run. 

So that is the tale of Piper, 
The story of how he won. 
But keep the wick of the lamp down low. 
And I'll tell j^ou another before I go : 
And then, — I will be done. 



[75] 



ELKDOM 



B. P. O. E. 

Have you ever felt that feeling 
That comes over you so still, 

When the chap you think's a stranger 
Calls you softly, " Brother Bill "? 



[79] 



TO THE DISTRICT DEPUTY 

You'ke in Melrose, Brother Carbin, District 
Deputy Northeast; 

Behold the fairest members of your flock ! 

We have set aside a table and you're wanted at 
the feast ; 

Come up a little nearer to the clock. 

And now just look about you; just make your- 
self at home; 

You're right among the very best alive. 

From down deep in the cellar to away up near 
the dome 

There's not a single stranger in the hive. 

For the stranger loses strangeness, Brother 

Deputy Northeast, 
When once he sets his feet upon our floor. 
His face will break into a smile and he will shake 

at least 
A dozen welcome hands right near the door. 
— So come and see us often ; you're welcome as 

the spring; 
You can wander from the Dutch room to the 

dome; 
You can eat and drink all that you want and 

bowl our Bill a string, 
If you promise that you'll make yourself at 

home. 

[80] 



THE PROPOSED VISIT 

Inter-lodge visitations are jolly times for Elks. Wake- 
field, once in the Melrose district, continues to visit Mel- 
rose and Melrose just as frequently makes a formal call 
on its sister Lodge. 

LiK£ a snow storm from the ice-coast 
We will blow around your town, 

And we'll clamor at your doorway 
Till we tramp the white snow down. 

But the leaping sparks will warm us, 
When we stand around your grate ; 

And you'll warm an extra flagon 
For the brother coming late. 

Oh, you'll warm an extra flagon. 
When we stand around your grate ; 

Aye! You'd warm a dozen flagons 
For a brother coming late. 

And when it's time for parting, 

We will sing a merry song, 
Like the songs we sang in Melrose 

When the winter nights were long. 



[81] 



TO THE NEW LODGE 

We salute you, Wakefield ! 

We salute you well ; 
With shout and chorus, 

With song and bell. 
With laugh and story, 

With flag and band : — 
We salute you, Wakefield ! 

And here's our hand. 

We salute you, Colonel ! * 

We salute you all, 
'Neath starry banner. 

With cry and call: 
With voices praising. 

You understand! 
We salute you. Colonel! 

And here's our hand. 

We salute you. Brothers ! 

We salute you. Bill ; 
With tears of gladness. 

With hearts that fill. 
With noise and glory. 

With march and band : — 
We salute you, Brothers ! 

And here's our hand. 

* The Colonel referred to, is Col. Edward J. Gihon, the 
first Exalted Ruler of the Wakefield Lodge. 

[82] 



PICTURES FOR PORTLAND 

The Elk who travels about the country is proud of his 
home lodge and sometimes carries with him pictures of 
his home building; but the Elk who journeys to the an- 
nual Re-unions of the Grand Lodge, not only carries pic- 
tures of his lodge Home, but also pictures and badges 
that advertize his city. When the Boston lodge made 
the trip across the continent to Portland, Oregon, they 
carried an unusually good collection of views of Boston. 
This verse about the " Pictures for Portland " can be 
sung to the air of " Nellie Gray." 

I AM going off to Portland, 
And I'm going with the crowd ; 

I am going to the free and frisky West. 
I have drawn a month of pay, 
And I'm going to get away : — 

I am going off to Portland with the crowd. 

I am going off to Portland 
With a uniform and band; 

Oh, a thousand hands will greet us on the way. 
I've a picture of the Mayor, 
And a view of Copley Square, 

And another of T wharf upon the bay ; 
And I wouldn't go at all 
Without one of Faneuil Hall, 

While a dozen of the Common I've allowed : — 
They are dear familiar scenes. 
And say, don't forget the beans ! 

I am going off to Portland with the crowd. 

[83] 



I am going off to Portland, 

And I'm feeling " Boston proud " ; 
I am going to the free and frisky West. 

Hey there, Kell ! Let's have my card ; 

Hold the train a minute, pard ; 
I am going off to Portland with the crowd. 



[84] 



THE NEW HOME 

The anxious committeemen who are responsible for the 
work of purchasing and equiping a Lodge Home, to the 
reliable, pleasure-loving but unthinking brothers. 

" We're almost ready, Brother, so don't you 
knock the door; 
We're almost a-yelling out, ' Come on ! ' 
We've got to turn a rug around and hang a pic- 
ture up ; 
So please stop a-calling Bill and John ; 
For Bill and John are busy, and Henry's busy, 
too ; 
And Clarence is a hustling night and day : 
And if you haven't sent that check, just hurry 
it along, 
For the gas man's a-waiting for his pay. 

" We're almost ready. Brother, so don't you 
knock so loud ; 
We're almost a-yelling out, ' Come on ! ' 
The secretary's writing cards for fellows paying 
dues. 
So please stop a-calling Bill and John. 
For everyone is busy, and Charlie's busy, too ; 
And some are working night as well as day : 
So if you haven't sent your check, just hurry it 
along, 
For the paint man's a-waiting for his pay. 

[85] 



" We're almost ready, Brother, so don't you 
push so hard ; 
We're almost a-yelling out, ' Come on ! ' 
The steward's got the telephone receiver to his 
ear, 
And asking what express ' it ' will be on. 
So everybody's busy, and I am busy, too ; 

And the coal man's a-shouting, ' Chute away ! ' 
So if you haven't sent your check, just hurry it 
along. 
For the coal man's a-waiting for his pay. 

" And when we're ready, Brother, you won't 
have long to wait ; 
We'll yell out a welcome shout, ' Come on ! ' 
And if there won't be chairs enough, why, stand- 
ing room is good ; 
And there'll be a thousand lights out on the 
lawn. 
And everyone will say, ' Hullo ' ; and some will 
look surprised : — 
But hurry up ; the band's about to play : 
And if you haven't sent that check, just hurry 
it along. 
For the band man'll want to get his pay." 



[86] 



A GREAT LIFT 

OuK committee is out working to arrange for 

sports and games ; 
It has scrutinized the mailing list and published 

all the names ; 
It has settled on the starter and the clerk and 

referee : — 
But how could it have skipped the name of Jack 

O'Shaugnessey ? 

No runner ever ran like him ; all records were his 

own; 
No man was so magnificent, competing with the 

stone. 
No contest was so glorious, wherever it might 

be, 
As when the crowd was cheering loud for Jack 

O'Shaugnessey. 

When listing all the officers with typewriter or 

quill. 
Remember that O'Shaugnessey should be upon 

the bill. 
Don't argue it with anyone ; don't question it 

with me, 
The greatest athlete in the lodge is Jack 

O'Shaugnessey. 

[87] 



For didn't he take our mortgage and carry it 

away? 
And burn it in the Dutch room just to celebrate 

the day? 
That was his greatest record, and 'twill live in 

his-to-ry ; 
And don't forget the honored name of Jack 

O'Shaugnessey. 



[88] 



FOR MEMORIAL SUNDAY 

Where, Bill, where has the weeping willow gone 
That drooped o'er the lilies in the stream? 

I wonder what's become 

Of Dick and Jack and Tom ; 
You remember how they used to swear and 
scream. 

How the time has hurried by ; 

Now there's only you and I, 
For old friends have scattered o'er the land ; 

There were many whom we knew, 

So we'll give each one his due ; 
For their " faults have been written in the sand." 

Where, Bill, where, can we lie down for a nap? 
The hay mound in the meadow ought to do. 

We can dream and we can sleep 

As the night's slow shadows creep, 
And the moon glimmers softly through the dew. 

And should the angel call. 

We can tell the God of all 
That we did our very best to understand. 

And so. Bill, let us pray 

That when we're called away. 
Our " faults may be written in the sand." 



[89] 



FLAG DAY 

This is the day the red and white 
With clustering stars in blue unite ; 
And streams aloft from poles and spars 
In flut'ring waves of stripes and stars. 

But see! Along the city street, 
Where sounds the drum and tramp of feet, 
Another color greets the eye ! 
Another color passes by ! 

Embracing red and white and blue. 
And like a lover fond and true, 
The purple of the Elks is there 
To kiss the flag in freedom's air. 



[90] 



ELK SONG 

I HEARD that song within a grove 

Last outing night, 
As Lill and I about did roam 

With hands clasped tight. 
And when at last I said " Good bye," 
Its echo lingered, ne'er to die: 
" We twa hae run about the braes, 
And pu'd the gowans fine — " 

That old refrain, 

That song 

We love to hear again. 

One night when long from home and friend, 

'Midst lowering light, 
When Elkdom gathered those who lend 

A kindly light 
I saw outstretched a hundred arms. 
And heard that song with all its charms : 
" And there's a hand, my trusty fiere ! 
And gie's a hand o' thine ! — " 
That old refrain, 
That song 
We love to hear again. 

When I return to friends of old. 

And dearest Lill, 
A glad " Hullo " awaits, I'm told, 

Her dearest Bill ; 
[91] 



With hands in mine and voice that's sweet 
She'll sing that song and then repeat: 
" Should old acquaintance be forgot, 
And never brought to min' — " 
That old refrain, 
That song 
We love to hear again. 



[92] 



